


Mary Did You Know

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Lights, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Humor, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, This probably could've just been humor but the author is a sentimental asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam watches Dean and Castiel attempt to hang Christmas lights inside the bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mary Did You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Written by sunshinewinchesters  
> Beta'd by Astrophilla
> 
> Type: Canonverse AU, married Castiel/Dean
> 
> **The seventeenth installment of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

Dean’s eye roll is visible even from where Sam stands a room away, nailing bundles of mistletoe above the door frame to Dean’s room. He’s glaring at the ladder propped up against the wall, hands fisted in a string of Christmas lights as he gives Castiel the skeptical look Sam himself has been on the receiving end of many times. “You know I hate ladders, Cas. Can’t you just fly up there and staple them?” Dean asks, and Sam smirks at the plea creeping into his otherwise indignant tone. He tries to focus on the nail he’s hammering into the wall so he doesn’t smash his thumb, but watching Dean and Cas attempt to put up Christmas decorations when neither of them have ever done it before is quickly becoming one of Sam’s favorite things. Cas gives Dean a scathing look, and Sam presses his lips into a line to keep from laughing. Two hours into decorating and they’re already bickering like an old married couple.   
“You know that isn’t a logical way to hang up Christmas lights,” Cas deadpans, and Dean sighs, turning to look up at the ladder with dread on his face.   
“Do you wanna get up there and do it? I can feed the cord up and hold the staple gun,” Dean tries to compromise. For someone who doesn’t even flinch at near-beheading by a psycho axe killer spirit, Dean’s fear of heights is hilarious, as are the lengths he’s willing to go to to ensure that he won’t have to deal with them. 

“C’mon, Dean, conquer your fear!” Sam shouts, grinning as Dean spins on his heels to pin him with a challenging glare.   
“Easy for you to say, bitch! I’ll remember to shout that at you the next time you’re being chased by a satanic clown!” Dean retorts.   
“Just get up there and do it already, jerk. Cas has to start with the other decorations.” Dean turns back to Cas, jaw set with determination.   
“Okay, I got this. I’m not scared of a friggin ladder,” Dean declares, grumbling as he seizes the end of the string of lights and starts climbing up the ladder steps. “Though the fact that it’s a piece of wobbly, rusty shit isn’t exactly the most reassuring.” Cas frowns, tilting his head head back to watch Dean go up, and Sam doesn’t miss how his gaze lingers on Dean’s ass. “Hand me the staple gun,” Dean instructs, now balancing precariously at the top, stretching one arm up to pin the cord to the corner where the ceiling meets the wall. Cas hands it up, looking uncertain as he eyes the ladder, as if only now just realizing that maybe yeah, it is a death contraption, and Sam probably wouldn’t risk using it, rusty and old as it is. They’d found it in the garage, and if Sam had to guess, he’d say that the Men of Letters used it to change the lights on the high ceilings; it’s the only use for such a huge ladder.

“Sonovabitch,” Dean mutters as he leans too far, trying to stretch out the cord, and the ladder teeters with him, the metal groaning.   
“Do you want me to hold it steady?” Cas asks as Dean takes a few deep breaths, clutching the top of the ladder with a white-knuckled grip. He’s probably internally cursing Sam for deciding the lights would look best on the vaulted ceilings, and Sam doesn’t really blame him. He doesn’t have a fear of heights, but he sure as hell wouldn’t want to be on a rickety ladder with a solid two story drop.   
“Nah, I need you to keep handing me the cord, then you can hold it when I get down and move it over,” Dean calls down, seeming to get his courage back up seeing as he starts to reach for the lights already stapled to the wall to continue following the edge of it. Cas is frowning deeply now, but he dutifully feeds the cord up, Dean stapling it into the wall with hands that may or may not be shaking, Sam can’t see from where he is now squatting by the fireplace to throw more wood on. The fire crackles as he stokes it and the stapling sounds are coming rhymically now. That is until the ladder squeaks and then Dean is swearing angrily under his breath.   
“Are you okay?” Cas asks, and Sam joins them, looking up to see what his brother’s problem is now.   
“I stapled my fucking sleeve to the wall,” Dean growls, seething as he jerks at his arm and then gives up. Sam has to restrain himself from bursting into laughter at the sight of his disgruntled brother glaring daggers at the staple binding his flannel sleeve to the wall. “Stupid fucking staple gun.”

Sam can’t help it: he throws back his head and laughs, the sound of it echoing off the walls. “Oh my god, Dean,” he takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure, but Dean’s gone back to pulling at his sleeve, looking like a petulant child trying to get his way and make his sleeve cooperate.   
“Be still, Dean. I am coming up to help you,” Castiel reassures him, and starts carefully climbing up the ladder. The metal-grating-on-metal sound gets louder as Cas moves his way up, and Sam manages to get a grip on himself to go hold the base of the ladder. The last thing he needs is both his brother and the angel collapsing when this thing inevitably does. Cas puts a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder when he reaches him, then squints down at the staple pinning him in place, while Dean continues cursing. Sometimes Sam can’t believe this is what their lives have become: Cas is pulling the staple out with his thumb and index finger like it’s nothing, while Dean watches him with fascination, interrupting his swearing to remark,  
“Wow, Cas, that’s a neat trick,” and Cas smiles at him, allowing him to move his arm back to his side. These two have been all the way to Hell and back together, and now there they are, working together to hang up Christmas lights in the bunker. Something about it warms Sam’s heart, and it might just be that the most noticeable difference between then and now is the golden ring on Cas’ ring finger and the matching one on Dean’s. Or maybe it’s that whether it be killing their way through a hoard of demons or pulling the staple out of Dean’s sleeve while balanced precariously on a ladder, they always work together as if it is as easy as breathing.

“Alright, I’m gonna keep going,” Dean declares, a new found determination evident in the look on his face. Cas climbs down the ladder and takes Sam’s place in holding it steady, allowing Sam to go back to the other decorations.   
“I’ll watch over you.” Castiel promises, holding the ladder firmly in place as Dean dares to lean to the side again, resuming with the stapling as if nothing had happened. Sam smiles at the angel’s remark; that’s one thing that hasn’t changed. Dean used to always tell Sam that Mom knew angels were watching over them, had told Dean that every night before bed when she was still alive, and one more look at the wedding rings on his brother’s and the angel’s hand tells him that she was right. Somehow, Mary must’ve known.


End file.
